


i wanna marry you

by doubtthestars



Series: say you will [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider, im blaming vulcanistics wonderful fic for this, next gen football kids, retirement with a side of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pandora's box held hope at the end of all the despair.</p><p>Lamia Boateng has always known there was a reason her parent's marriage ended in divorce. She just didn't know what love had to do with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you're all i need

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [freedom of a thousand doves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3351071) by [vulcanistics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanistics/pseuds/vulcanistics). 



They are their mother's children. It was odd to say since their dads are the famous ones, but it is still true. Lamia had always looked more like her mother and Luan had Sylwia's chin. They were also the quieter twins with both their siblings going into football. It was easy to find themselves drawn together. First, by their fathers and the events, then by shared experience.

"What's going on with your brother?" Luan looks like he bit into the lemon that came with his water instead of setting it aside like he always does. He fidgets with his napkin and Lamia blinks unimpressed by the display. It is a standard question when they meet up but she had seen the tabloids of Bayern's rising Klose being a little too wild lately. Luan's reaction gave some credit to the rumors.

"He's an idiot. He's just...having a hard time. I don't know." He shrugs, not sure how to explain. Lamia twirled the straw in her milkshake to give him some time to sort his thoughts out. You had to be patient with Luan. If you were too direct, he would shut down and panic, but if you coaxed it out of him, he would find the right words. Lamia brushed back her hair and checked her phone before Luan began again.

"Louis and Noah aren't sure how to navigate their relationship and I'm stuck in the middle of it, as always." He mutters the last part but Lamia can paint the picture for herself. 

"I told you to come to Berlin with me instead of rooming with your brother and his ticking time bomb of a sexuality crisis." Luan winced at the description.

"Lamia, you know I couldn't do that besides I like living in Munich." She rolls her eyes to not show her hurt at the words. It's part of the same excuses he's given her for a year now. Her mother hadn't said anything to her dad, but Lamia knew showing up at her mother's apartment well into the night crying did not slip her father's radar.

_"He doesn't love me." Lamia can't help her breaking voice but she presses her lips together in an effort to stop her sobs._

_"Why would you say that, baby girl? Moving in together is a big step. It's alright to have reservations about it." They are inthe living room, her head on her mother's lap as she runs her fingers through her hair like when she was a child._

_"It's not about that. I-we've never had sex." She says reluctantly, but she knows she won't get anywhere with lies._

_"Oh. oh, well. That doesn't mean he doesn't love you. I think, and I may be wrong, but even if you're ready to take that step, he might not be...and if I know one thing about Polish men is that they always try to do right by the person they love." Something about the phrasing makes her look up at her mom. She is staring at a photograph of Bayern's second champions league title with Jerome, a bunch of sweaty, happy teammates around her dad and the trophy._

Luan taps her hand lightly with his pointer finger and Lamia wishes they hadn't met in public where they could still be hailed as news, especially with Noah going through a phase of idiotic moves. Miro must be worried about him. Lamia doesn't reach out to take his hand but bites her lip in an effort to remind herself she was trying to be patient. 

Soley may have inherited more of their father's features but they were both of the same temperament as Jerome. Stubbornness ran deep and Soley had channeled that into her playing but Lamia had always been a bit more hard-headed than her sister. 

_"I think there's something going on with dad." Soley is sharing her bed for old time's sake. The lights are all out except for one because Lamia couldn't sleep in utter darkness. She rolls over to see her sister staring up at the ceiling._

_"Good something or bad something?" It wasn't his health, she knew that much. Soley had more contact with their dad because of Bayern but it wasn't like Lamia didn't keep in touch even away at university. They tried to meet up once a week either in Berlin or Munich._

_"Remember Gina?" Lamia snorts, because Soley tended to think she couldn't keep track of her sister's coaches when football was all she talked about and Lamia had been to most of her home games to cheer her on._

_"Yes, what about her?" Soley propped her head up with an elbow._

_"I told you, I thought dad acted a little odd around her and I jumped to conclusions a little, but he finally talked to her, had a conversation besides coach to coach. He asked her if she was related to Robert Lewandowski." Lamia sucked a deep breath in and sat up, knowing this was important and she probably wouldn't get to sleep anytime soon._

_"Gina is from the States but she was totally a fangirl because they shared a name and she still played with the team when he was there and she was all about Lewandowski's move to Bayern from Dortmund and dad looked really awkward throughout her gushing. It was weird. Did you ever--"_

_"No, I couldn't bring it up but that confirms there's a story. Mom won't tell us but they can't expect us to be dumb, deaf, and blind to it. Mr. Klose even knows. He gives dad this look every time the Euros come up." Soley yawned and got more comfortable._

_"I don't know Mia, maybe we shouldn't poke at sleeping tigers? It's not really any of our business if it's in the past. I mean, mom and dad didn't work out but that doesn't mean it's because of this guy."_

"I read somewhere that since queer representation is on the rise, more people are identifying with the gender/sexuality fluid spectrum. So really, Noah isn't alone with the late blooming but Louis doesn't deserve to wait around forever." Her voice grows sharp without meaning to and she looks up to see Luan's blue eyes soften and grow apologetic without a word. Lamia had always liked Louis better because he was sweet and Noah always teased her about his brother, but she knew she wasn't just talking about them. 

"I don't think Noah will let this chance get away from him even if he is scared." Luan leans a little forward and Lamia can't help but smile because she knows he's not talking about Noah anymore.

"Do you wanna go for a walk? There's too many eyes in here." Lamia nods and pays her half of the bill when the waiter comes around. 

They end up in the park. Their arms swinging in tandem, still not holding hands in case of onlookers. Fame was funny and yet being anonymous would probably be so out of their comfort zone, they would end up feeling strange about it. She remembers the last time they had been here, sitting in the shade of the trees. Luan seemed to be trying to find the same secluded spot. He was tall and ungainly, slightly tripping over a protruding root. 

"What are you doing, aşkım?" She laughs as he stumbles to his knees. He looks a little annoyed when he looks up at her but then his whole face transforms, like he has never seen her before in this light of day or she was someone completely different, some being to adore or exalt.

"I love you, you know?" He says it so earnestly with jeans that are getting dirt all over them and Lamia knows he is the only one that could be for her. Luan is seven years older and her girlfriends were doubtful of his intentions because what else would a man want from her eighteen year old self. They didn't understand how Luan doesn't touch her unless she initiates. How he is unfailingly polite in the strangest and rudest circumstances. How fate worked in strange ways, bringing them together when their siblings decided to join the Bayern academy after so long. 

She was in love with him, plain and simple. It was easy to fall in love with Luan Klose.

_"How did you know you were in love with mom?" They are having a movie night, just father and daughter. Soley couldn't make it since she was at an away game, but they video-conferenced with her before she had to go to bed._

_"I don't think there was an exact moment and I was mostly too focused on my career to really appreciate Sherin's love sometimes, but." He takes a long pause and Lamia doesn't focus on the moving pictures across the screen anymore, but she also doesn't face him, because her father had faces he didn't like showing to the rest of the world. One of them was defeat and the another was this sad, quiet contemplation. She knows he loved her mother and they tried to work it out. They were still very close friends, but there was always this rift of things unsaid between them that as the twins got older, became a hushed secret._

_"It could've been when she was pregnant with you two and she still told me to go for Man City. I learned a lot of course, but I didn't stay long. Still, five years is a lot of time to wait for somebody to get their head straight." Jerome huffs a little in a joking manner. The tension in the air breaking and Lamia didn't even know she was holding her breath._

_On the drive back to Berlin, she thought about his answer. It sounded strange, filtered through her own examinations and feelings. It was a good show of trust to let her dad go to England, but again that was on her mother's part. She was supporting his dreams and letting him go, but five years? That seemed significant._

_She called her grandmother to get a retelling of the story of their birth. Sherin and Jerome had been together for three years before they were born._

She grabbed his hands to haul him up but he just held on tighter and refused to move. 

"Come on, get up Luan, you're being silly. Of course I know you love me." He mumbled something and his hair caught the light as he bowed his head to took a deep breath. Lamia looked around. The park seemed silent and empty and she almost dropped to her knees herself, because he couldn't be doing what she thought he was doing.

"Will you marry me?" He let go of one of her hands to reach into his pocket and Lamia felt winded and light-headed. The blue stone on the band sparkled at her mockingly as her mouth refused to open. 

_"When I get married, could I use your wedding gown?" Sherin stops dicing the pears on the cutting board._

_"You're a little young to be planning, did Luan say something about it?" She is painfully aware of the number of years between them and Lamia shakes her head because Luan wouldn't think about it before she got to university. She had talked to Soley about it and her sister just shrugged._

_"You can have the dress. I want a trophy and a captain's band more than that." Lamia wiggled in her seat a little._

_"I was talking to Soley and she said it wouldn't be a problem. I don't know it's just something I was thinking about. I'm not planning anything, I just wanted to know." Sherin resumes preparing lunch and hums along with the radio but doesn't give an answer until she is at the table herself._

_"It's okay with me, honey. Just promise me, you'll think about it. Marriage is life-changing." Lamia doesn't want to spoil her food by bringing up the elephant in the room. 'Why' was on the tip of her tongue, but she held onto it before it turned to 'divorce' at the end._

"Lamia?" Luan looks a little panicked. She drops to her knees and hugs him. 

"Of course I will, it's almost a stupid question." She murmurs before kissing him, planting little pecks all over his face. He pulls away and smiles in relief. 

"It's an important question to ask though." She kisses him again, dizzy with lack of oxygen. She laughs. There they are in the park on their knees while the world goes on. Her mom was right, marriage was life-altering. It almost didn't feel real.


	2. love is blindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We must always remember Pandora's box contained hope after every despair was unleashed on the world.
> 
> Hope is a weapon anyone can master.

"It's going to be a long engagement." She reassures her father, but his face doesn't change and for once, Lamia can't read it. She doesn't know what to make of his eyebrows sloping down and his mouth occupied with chewing. Time has been kind to him, but she was his daughter and had been there to see every grey hair and worry line appear. 

"Dad?" She pokes him with a chopstick and he shakes his head slightly, his gaze sharpens, focuses on her. 

"Sorry, honey bee, I just remembered holding you when you were born and now we're here. I'm happy for you. It isn't every day your daughter tells you she's getting married. I trust you won't do anything rash and Luan is a good kid, the best I could hope for as your choice." Lamia smiles relieved because he sounds almost normal, not as sad or doubtful as she thought he would be. 

He stares at his fingers for a second before picking up his tea cup. The small lacquered object looking strange in his hands. Lamia takes a breath before getting to the question that had haunted her for as long as she discovered her parents weren't perfect, that they were human and capable of wrong beyond a foul or a broken plate.

"I need to know why you got divorced and what it has to do with Robert Lewandowski." He sets the tea down, hadn't even taken a sip. He looks so much older than his age in that second between that Lamia reaches out.

"I guess it is time. After all, you're not a little girl anymore." She takes his hands in hers. 

"Dad, I'm still _your_ little girl, just getting into another stage of her life." He sighs but squeezes her fingers. 

"You were three when Robert came to Bayern." 

\---

Two years ago, Robert Lewandowski had ground his studs into his ankle but that was his business. Bayern had welcomed the polish striker with open arms. If he thought his smile was a little too smug, it wasn't anybody's fault but his. Jerome wasn't going to hold a grudge when it was his job to to stop a threat to the net behind him and it was equally Robert's job to score.

He told himself it was just a new face to get adjusted to but on the ferry in New York, he is doubtful as he watches him talk to Basti. He doesn't think his is a face that you get use to easily.

There are plenty of people saying Robert Lewandowski has lost his touch, hasn't scored in a single match since he transferred and when that goal finally happens, Jerome watches as he looks up to the sky and dedicates it to his father. Jerome doesn't know what to call the goosebumps on his arms or the way he stomach swoops and settles wrong. He's seen better goals from Robben. He was there when Mario found the back of the net against Argentina and crowned Germany champions of the world, but this was different. 

This was strange and unnamed. Jerome didn't like it at all.

\---

They sit next to each other on the plane to Moscow. 

"You're the strong and silent type, aren't you?" Jerome tugs down his headphones to rest against his neck. He was pretending not to notice Robert appraising him with a scrutiny one would only probably save for a piece of art in a museum. It is different than the way he looks at Pep when he doesn't quite get something or when he is practicing free kicks against Neuer. 

"Excuse me?" He pretends many things when their eyes meet, but Jerome is practiced in keeping his thoughts in his head and not across his face. 

"I thought you didn't like me, or you had a problem with me being here but I talked to Mario and a couple of the others before I figured it was just your personality." At that, his lips twitch because Robert didn't know how hard he tried to keep a meaningless grudge before it slipped away like water in his hands. Robert catches the movement and Jerome tries hard not to swallow down this nameless thing that crops up like bile in his throat whenever he catches Robert's inquisitive gaze in blue.

"Sometimes, there isn't much to say."

Robert laughs, the sound should sound forced, his mouth just slightly open. Jerome blinks and the moment is gone. He shifts back, putting his headphones on right. He pretends they cancel out the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.

_"I never cheated on Sherin. It was a matter of my heart. I didn't know why. I still don't, but believe me, I didn't want it to be this way." Lamia bites her lip to not point out the rumor of the model. She doesn't take her hands away. His hands are trembling slightly and she can't say anything, can't feel anything beyond the thick knot in her throat._

_She wills herself to not cry because this is a love story she had never heard and her dad had never voiced. She already knew how it ended, but the journey was important, the events between what she had known and the start._

_"You won the Champions League." she whispers. Jerome nods, barely tucking his chin in._

_"We won and I knew what I wanted." He sounds incredibly sad and Lamia doesn't know what to do. She was the one that opened Pandora's box even though Soley had told her not to, even though her mother had buried it with a single-mindedness for her children and her work. It was still alive in Jerome and maybe she had more of her dad than she thought._

_"Why didn't you..." she doesn't finish the question because that would probably kill him, that would be the end of the conversation._

"What do you want, Jerome? Doesn't this matter to you?" Sherin's eyes are rimmed red and she is backing him into a wall. He feels irrationally like laughing, because this wasn't the conversation he wanted to have after winning the treble. This wasn't in any of his plans. 

"Sherin...don't do this." He pleads. There is no way in the world it will ever amount to anything. He has Lamia and Soley and Robert has Anna. He doesn't want to think about slim chances. He doesn't want to think of Robert's smile as he leans in, close enough to kiss. The confetti falling around them is red and gold and he selfishly thinks that this is their moment, this is their world cup. 

He has made it back to Berlin and taken it by storm. The last time had been in London and Robert had been on the other side of the field. Now, they were in his city and Robert was beside him.

"You shouldn't do this _to me_ You shouldn't do this to Lamia and Soley. Why is this not enough?" She is crying and Jerome envelops her in a hug as she falls apart. He is responsible for this. He is the one in the wrong and putting everything in danger for a pipe-dream. 

"I promise I'll do better. I'll _be_ better. I don't know how to stop, but I will. I'll do it for you and Soley and Lamia." His Adam's apple bobs. How do you stop wanting? It is the biggest challenge he would ever face.

\---

"I'm leaving when my contract is up." The sun is making everything warp with waves of heat. Jerome doesn't know what to say. They are this close to the Euros and he has a handle on his thoughts, but still can't control the speed his heart picks up when Robert is around. It is a physical reaction, he remind himself. It is nothing.

"Premier League?" He hates himself for even remembering the interview. He hates that he cannot delete every insignificant scrap of information he's gathered about Robert in these years from his mind. 

There is nothing but concern in those blue eyes. 

"Yes, I'm hoping." He is relieved for just a moment, thinking maybe this will get better, will get easier if Robert is not around, but then a clawing agony starts pounding in his head. His fingers start to tingle with the urge to grab the other man's shirt and tell him to stay. Jerome feels short of breath. He can't believe it has taken him this long to realize this wasn't lust for the unattainable.

"It would-It's a good opportunity to take." He unintentionally echoes what his coach told him all those years ago when Manchester City came calling. He feels sick. He feels stupid for ever entertaining any universe where they could be.

He doesn't want to see Robert walk away. He makes himself watch anyway.

_"We got married before the Euros and it was a disaster from beginning to end. It was just another kick in the teeth when we had to face Poland. It wasn't my finest moment. I lost my head." He is self-deprecating. Lamia doesn't know how someone could be in love without knowing it for that long. Then she remembers Noah and Louis and wonders if it is a disease certain hearts carry._

_Some sort of inability to connect the dots until it is too late for love to thrive in between them._

_Lamia knows football was the life her father chose but she is suddenly angry, because no wonder boys like Noah and Louis and Kai couldn't breathe under the pressure. It is choices that make the person but how do you make a choice when you are temporarily blinded by the lights of a stadium until all the color of life is bleached with every loss and regained with every win._

_"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She feels the bubbling shame of tears under her skin. She wants to blow out the candle in between them to hide._

_"Lamia, it's not your fault. It was never yours or your sister's or Sherin's."_

Bastian retires with blood, sweat and tears. Lukas goes with him. Roman doesn't get called back up. Mario and Marco are a force on the field. Jerome doesn't want to wrap his head around the fact that the midfield is now commanded by Toni. Sami is the new captain and there is talk that Jogi might not return for the next Cup. 

Mesut is bunking with him for a friendly against the US. He has a headache that hasn't stopped since mid-afternoon. 

"Robert told me to wish you a happy birthday." Jerome freezes, his stomach clenching. He doesn't look at Mesut for fear of what his eyes could betray. 

"Okay." He goes into the bathroom to get some aspirin and wishes Robert Lewandowski was forgetful. Later on, when night has fallen and they are getting settled, Mesut asks.

"Is everything okay?" He is gentle because Mesut never rose his voice over anything he hadn't been a part of directly. Jerome is already wound up and he feels like one more lie will destroy him. He feels like he has been lying for hundreds of years instead of the half decade. The darkness of the room helps him get the words out.

"Have you wondered what your life would be like if you made different choices?" It is vague, skirting around the gaping canyon of all he could answer with. Jerome doesn't take himself for a coward but he hasn't spoken to Robert in over a year. He shuts his eyes.

"Yes, of course." Jerome waits until his heart stops racing and almost hopes Mesut has fallen asleep in that timespan.

"Have you ever...fallen in love without realizing it?" There is a rustle and Jerome keeps his eyes closed because he doesn't want sympathy or anything else. He knows in their world, it is an issue that won't be resolved. In football, there are lines you cannot cross and Jerome had been toeing it since Robert had donned the Bayern red.

"I pray for it to never happen again." Mesut returns softly. Jerome doesn't know if he means he'd rather stay in love or hope to never feel it again. He decides either way is a bad decision on their part.

\---

Jerome gets a call from an unknown number the day the divorce papers are finalized. He lets it ring and takes a sip of the whiskey in his hand. It burns down his throat. He has never liked the taste but Lukas had sent it over and he had experience with this sort of thing. 

He keeps drinking until a quarter of the stout crystal bottle is gone and he feels like he cannot possibly move from his chair. The voicemail icon is taunting him and Jerome hopes it is a telemarketer that doesn't know his life is falling apart, that time is against him. 

Six years, he had lived with Sherin and now he was in apartment like the one he had started in when he first moved to this city. 

"Jerome," It starts with a long spell of silence but there it is. He doesn't know how Robert got his number. He doesn't want to know. 

"I'm sorry." it continues and finally ends with just those words and he thinks about throwing his phone away from him and his thoughts but he is tired. There is no one else with him because Jerome would rather lick his wounds alone. He taps the playback button until his vision is blurry with hot tears. 

He doesn't save the number and deletes the message the next morning.

\---

Robert is in Italy staying with Mario and Jerome looks at Lamia with her curls and bright eyes and tells her love is something to be cherished. He has been around to witness the dance between the Klose twin and his daughter. It is an easy thing between them. He thanks whatever gods he can that she had chosen the scholar and not the athlete. 

Soley was hungry for silverware. Soley was exactly like him, always looking for the next opportunity and win. She was a fast one, cutting a path through the center, taking risks, bleeding for the same colors Jerome had worn for most of his career. He was proud of her. He was proud of them both even if they repeated his mistakes, he would stand by them.

"Sometimes you need to slow down. Sometimes it is not when you get there but how. There is no such thing as a perfect block, every time you are out there marking someone, it will get ugly. You have to create the opportune moment where you are at the advantage." He teaches a young defender that reminds him of Javi but looks a little bit like Holger with a square stubborn jaw

Miro is there later on, watching the boys practice. 

"Scoping out Germany's future talent?" Jerome asks casually, knowing Miro had probably visited Noah on his way here. 

"It reminds me of different days. It helps me with perspective, seeing them on the field. Noah had been one of those boys not too long ago and now, he is starting for the national team." Noah wore his uncle Thomas' number, but it was still a delight to see the Klose name on the back of a jersey again. It was also immense pressure on the boy to continue a legacy, even when his father was right there.

Noah's style of play reminded Jerome of Mario. He wondered if every generation had one pair of boys that would see stars together. He was sure that Noah would be brilliant with or without Louis, but lightning always came with rain.

"Robert is coming back to Germany, Jerome." His brain refuses to let go of the words, latching on like a dog with a bone. Miroslav looks at him with so much compassion, Jerome has to look away. This was news carefully constructed for him. He wondered how obvious he was, how many of his former teammates knew. Mario had been there and Miro had been assistant coach for Poland before Germany assented the change. 

His hands are balled up against his sides before he meets Miro's gaze. 

"Okay, that's okay." He reassured him and his own swirling thoughts.

\---

Mario kept sending him pictures of the trip around the world he was taking with Marco. Jerome shouldn't have ever told him he wanted to take a vacation for a few days. 

"Bayern doesn't have you on a leash, Jer. Take some time for yourself. Is your apartment even furnished or is it the same as I left it?" Mario sounds much more cheerful than the last time they had talked. Of course, that had been after the divorce and Mario had also been alone then.

Jerome had refused to think about his two friends working out the various problems in their complicated relationship. For one, they had never been married, so there was a difference. Another fact was that everyone knew Mario and Marco would end up together eventually, it had only taken them this long to figure it out. Andre had probably been the happiest of their colleagues over the news.

"Lamia and Soley helped me pick out curtains if that's what you want to hear." Jerome replied a bit dryly. 

"Oh well, I trust their judgement on appropriate home decor unlike some people who think Dortmund color are still acceptable." He hears the jab at Marco and hears them argue like they were back in 2012. Jerome is happy for them. They deserved a nice end to their story. 

"Sorry, so have you seen Lewy lately?" Jerome knew he shouldn't have picked up the phone as soon as he saw Mario's dumb selfie flash across the screen. 

"No, I haven't. I think we're past this conversation Mario." He hears more muffled words and thinks Mario has moved to a quieter place from wherever he had been because the ambient noise was dampened. Jerome sighs because this was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. 

"He wasn't--Jerome, you need to talk to him. He won't do it if he thinks you won't." It is an easily aggravated wound that starts bleeding anytime someone brings Robert up. Jerome is aware he is being stubborn, but mostly he is afraid of seeing Robert again. 

"Maybe I don't want to talk to him, Mario. Maybe this isn't like you and Marco. I've been here the whole time, I didn't fuck off to England or Italy or wherever. I didn't run away to find myself and end up on his doorstep and I still won't." He is unfairly harsh, but he doesn't want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about _it_.

"Fine, but he left for you, not _because_ of you. He left because it was the right thing to do, for you Jerome." His anger swells up only to collapse under the weight of Mario's words. 

"I didn't ask him to." He swallows his bitterness.

"Maybe that was the problem." Mario is sympathetic and his words ring with the knowledge of missed chances and holding back for the sake of something greater than reputation. Jerome doesn't think he will be able to walk away from Robert. He doesn't think he will be able to stop himself from destroying everything he had built for hope. 

He prays that the day never comes when he has to choose a door opening or closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to the piano version of this is gospel for a long time and cried about it. I don't know where this is going tbh.


	3. what kind of man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never got to give him Warsaw. Letters are a dying art.

_"You and Soley were my priority. I didn't want to end like my father. I didn't want you to end up like Kevin or George or myself. There is nothing more important to me than your happiness. If you want to marry Luan, if your sister wants to protest FIFA, if you needed to leave, I would do anything to help you. You are my daughter, Lamia, and I know-" his voice broke, "I know it hasn't always been easy being my daughter but this is all I can do as your father."_

And Lamia knew what she could do as his daughter. Her mother had been impressed with her plan. Soley had called it crazy.

"Don't you get it, Mia? You just keep pushing and pushing when dad doesn't--don't put him through more pain, please just think this through. Sometimes the stories don't have happy endings. Not everyone can do what Bastian and Lukas did. It's been a decade and some years for this Robert to do something and he hasn't. I know you think you're going to solve the problem but at what cost?" Soley was still and Lamia knew she was serious. Her sister was constantly in motion but she looked at her worried and angry and kept her body in one place.

She shook her head. 

"You weren't there, Soley. I can't let this go. _I can't_. Dad hasn't thought about himself since we were born, maybe beyond that and if there's a chance, if I can make this happen. If there's still something there...I was so wrong, I was so, so wrong about dad and mom and love, Soley. I need to do this. For such a long time, I thought dad had hurt mom by leaving but, but." Her sister hugged her as her tears started up again. 

"Okay, okay. I'm still not sure about this whole thing, but I understand. I'll distract dad. You do what you need to do." Lamia hiccuped and hugged Soley tighter.

"This will work, I know it will."

\---

Lamia used a family emergency to get out of her Monday morning classes. It gave her the necessary time to make the trip and find wherever Robert Lewandowski was hiding. She had until Wednesday afternoon to make this wrong a right and Anna Stachurska was her first stop. 

"Lamia Boateng?" She is beautiful and still looks very much like the pictures she had found online of the Karate Champion. Lamia was going to go with a cover story of a school project but she hadn't thought she would be recognized by the polish woman. It was easy to find her address, since Anna hadn't moved out of the same house they had stayed in from Robert's days at Bayern. 

She knew she probably wouldn't find the man there but she hoped his ex-wife was still friendly enough to warrant a visit if he really was in Germany. 

"Um, yes. Hi, Mrs. Stachurska. I didn't think you would know who I was." Anna smiles a little like she has a secret to tell but only motions her inside. 

"Come in, I have some hot chocolate on the stove." She gets a warm mug of it as Anna sits down across from her with a grace that Lamia would imagine royalty to have. She takes a sip of the warm drink and smiles because it reminded her of home. She had never been fond of coffee or tea except when sick, but hot chocolate was perfect for the cold weather. 

"I used to do cartwheels to entertain you when you were little. I doubt you remember it. You still like cinnamon in your hot chocolate right?" She nudged the little container over to her on the low table between them. Lamia is hit with a sense of displacement. She wonders who Anna would be to her in the grand scheme of things if her dad had chosen differently. If Robert hadn't left for England all those years ago.

She tries to hide her shaky hand by tapping out the cinnamon into her drink. 

"You're here about Robert and Jerome aren't you?" She looks up from the swirling dark galaxy in her mug to gauge the other woman's expression, but there is nothing sad or strange like her mother's face when she had finally gotten the truth. 

"Yes, I wanted to know where he was staying. I heard he was back." Anna has an amused little grin on her face but her eyes were expectant. 

"What for? I expected a call from Jerome, maybe even Mirek but here you are instead. I hope I don't sound callous, but I'm not going to give my ex-husband's information to just anybody without a good reason to do so. Robert decided to retire quietly and I respect that decision." Lamia bit her lip in indecision. She wouldn't hedge around the issue with Anna but she wasn't sure how to word her request.

"I need to know why. It was this big secret for us, and I finally got some answers but I need to hear Mr. Lewandowksi's side too. I want to help." Anna nodded and genuinely smiled, a pretty, kind smile without some sort of intention behind it. 

"I'm glad then, that you've come to me, Lamia. I love that man but he has let this go for too long. I have something for you, to help you get his perspective on the matter." Lamia felt relieved and practically bounced in her seat when Anna left the room. She was getting somewhere with this mission.

\---

Her time had run out after receiving the gift but Anna had given her a Berlin address, which had shocked Lamia. Robert had been so close to her the entire time and she wouldn't have known until she gathered the courage to ask her father about the story. 

Luan had been skeptical of her plan but after spending an afternoon with the letters on her desk, he hadn't any doubt in the validity of her claims. Anna had given her a box full of letters addressed to Jerome from Robert and it had taken a lot of late nights for Lamia to get through them all. She had brought in Luan because some of the letters had phrases and parts in polish. There was one in November that was entirely in Polish besides the last two lines. 

_"I was the one to date them and put them in envelopes. It was just easier to keep track of them that way. I don't know when he started it and I don't know how many of them I missed but by the time he caught on that I was rescuing them from the trash...he just left them on the desk." Anna had loosened up after hearing Lamia out._

_"You're probably the only person to know their contents besides Robert." Lamia had already gone through two of them in the time it took to finish her hot chocolate. She was startled out of figuring out if that was an s or an a when she heard that._

_"You've never read them?" Anna shook her head no._

_"You have to understand, that Robert--we loved each other. We still have love for each other, but those letters were his thoughts. They were part of what he wrestled with in our marriage and I would rather not let old letters color the relationship I know I had with him before we separated. It may sound terrible but after reading the first I found, I knew I couldn't read the rest without it destroying what I had with Robert." Lamia swallowed the lump in her throat because she had been dragging everything into the light again and again without stopping to think of who it affected._

_"I'm sorry. I should've waited to open them. I didn't want to bring up--" Anna shushed her._

_"Lamia, it's alright. I was the one who decided to leave Robert anyway. He is a good man who would've moved earth and sea to make me happy but I knew better. He always tries to do right thing but never thinks of where he'll end up in the process."_

She was going to visit Robert over the weekend with the box of letters. She had patiently made copies with her notes on the polish in case Robert didnt want anything to do with her or the letters. It was his choice if he wanted to show them to Jerome. She had her proof now, but she wasn't going to give his thoughts away.

"Do you think if Louis wrote Noah a letter, they would get their shit together?"

Soley laughed because Luan rarely ever sweared. The situation was grinding on her fiance's nerves. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. If only everything could be solved by writing a letter. 

"I don't think so. Besides shouldn't it be Noah writing it in their case?" Luan chuckles and kisses the top of her head.

"Louis at least has the poet's heart. My brother could never write down his feeling like this." Lamia looks up. 

"I don't know, maybe he'll surprise you one day. Soley has been really understanding about this whole thing. Twins have a connection you know." Luan rolls his eyes but smiles back at her impish look.

"Is this your way of telling me to bear my love for you through writing? Because I could just tell you right now, Lamia Boateng. You mean the world to me and if I were stupid enough to let go of you, I'm sure there would be a line of people willing to knock some sense into me including my own brother and Julian Lahm." 

\---

Robert heard a knock at his door and looked through the peephole to see a girl with a box. He sighs, hoping it is a new tenant in need of some help and not for some sort of food drive. He opens the door and the girl looks a bit surprised with wide eyes like she didn't expect anyone to answer. 

"May I help you?" He is polite and she drops the box like he had shouted. He is a tiny bit annoyed at the strange girl and is about to make excuses to close the door and get back to his book but she shakes her curly head and sticks a hand out in greeting.

"Robert Lewandowski? I'm Lamia Boateng." He is the one staring in shock now. The seconds pass and the girl clears her throat, picks up the box and looks uncomfortably unsure of what to do. Robert regains himself and steps to the side.

"Come in, come in, sorry, I don't expect many visitors." Her eyes dart around to the small apartment and Robert is inordinately embarrassed about his surroundings. It is neat and spartan, personal touches weren't really his priority when he came back and he hadn't bothered with it afterwards. He gestures to a chair. 

"Sit down, could I get you something? Water or orange juice or tea?" He quickly thinks of what he has available. 

"I have some shortbread if you would like?" Robert keeps staring like Lamia is a ghost. He isn't entirely sure he isn't dreaming, but his imagination could never make the child he hadn't seen in years grow up and stand in his living room with a box in her hands.

"Um, thank you. Water is fine." He gets her a glass and sits down. She is hugging the box on her lap and he is curious.

"What's in the box?" He tries not to fidget. 

"It's your letters, to um, my dad. Anna gave them to me. I thought I should give them back." Lamia puts the box on the table and he doesn't move because Lamia had to have read them. She knew about everything then. At least, everything between the years in Munich and going to London. 

There were a lot of letters he didn't remember because he pushed it out of his mind after leaving, but there they were staring him in the face, brought to him by a girl with Jerome's eyes. 

\---

She is quiet as he rifled through the box. She knew he would look different but she hadn't expected the beard or the serious set to his eyes, the frown lines. Spending so much time on the letters, she had a completely different voice in her mind for his thoughts than his own. It was why she was so startled in the beginning. 

"I didn't think Anna kept them after everything." He is quieter than she thought, a softer voice than what she imagined but maybe it was the shock. 

"Why did you come back?" _Why haven't you tried to talk to my father?_ She takes him by surprise. He focuses his blue eyes on her, completely different from Anna's, and she tries not to back down because this was important. Lamia had thought of a million scenarios, of how she would start the conversation and what she would ask, but it all boiled down to why. If Robert Lewandowski was back, there had to be reason and that reason was important.

It would determine if she would keep going with the plan, if she would burn this bridge or help him cross it. 

He laughs a bit humorlessly before answering and Lamia isn't sure if she likes it. 

"I couldn't stay away. I was tired of watching time pass without me living it. I'm assuming you've read these and know I--" He finally looks away from her and Lamia lets go of the breath she was holding. 

"I came back to the only place I could think of. I walked these streets and saw a part of your father and figured it would be the only thing I could have after this long. Berlin holds a lot of good memories and no one would look for me here. I should have known I'd be wrong." 

_"Do you want a tour of Berlin?" Jerome is already in casual clothes and Robert wants to sleep for the next hundred years with exhaustion. They had played an away game for the DFB Pokal against Hertha and it had sapped his energy. He was rooming with Thomas who was on the phone, talking brightly._

_He looks back at Thomas and figures he would not get any sleep if he tried to lay down now._

_"Alright, I guess I can change." He picks out a set of clothes and goes into the bathroom. Jerome is still outside the door when he gets out dressed. Thomas has stopped talking but had a strange expression on his face. Robert shoots him a questioning look but receives nothing but a wave and a turnabout. He busies himself with his shoes and hears the steady flow of conversation come back._

_The cab feels small, smaller than any space they have ever shared together and he is hyper-aware of the cabbie looking back at them every so often. Robert doesn't know if he recognizes them, or if he is just driving carefully. Jerome had given the address but hadn't said much to explain the offer._

_There had been a subtle change between them since the goal, since he scored with a singular pass from Jerome and couldn't help getting closer. Robert kept telling himself he just appreciated the man. He was fascinated by Jerome, but it didn't mean he wanted anything from him._

_It didn't mean Robert wanted Jerome. He knew want; he knew passion and love. This wasn't any of that._

_The car stops and Jerome pays the man. Robert slides out of the backseat to cool air and feels relieved that they are no longer in that oppressive space. He wants to make a joke about it, to ease his own mind but Jerome is looking far too serious for it._

_"I grew up here." He points and Robert listens as he takes them through the streets, getting sweets in a corner store, kicking a football on concrete, running around like any child would do. He talks and talks until Robert feels like he can see him grow up into the man in front of him._

_He tells him about his brother picking a fight over a girl in the apartment building over there and how the Turkish woman that hung her clothes every Wednesday would smile with missing teeth at him when he walked to school this way._

_Robert is inundated with Jerome and he wonders if he will ever have the chance to return the favor, to show him where he started and how he came to be. Poland seems so far away sometimes. He gets homesick whenever he sees poppy seed loaf and the red flowers that grew in his mother's garden. He doesn't know when the next time will be, but he hopes one day he can share it with Jerome._

"I never got to give him Warsaw." Lamia takes a gulp of water and decides Robert Lewandowski is exactly what she thought, at least on the inside.

"I want you to have another chance with my father. I want to believe these letters aren't the only thing you can give him. It's been a long enough time, Mr. Lewandowski. Don't you think you've been fighting a natural force for too long? If you are too afraid of a storm, focus on the clear skies afterward. I can walk away from here if you are still afraid of a little rain and thunder. My dad deserves more than that." She is bold. Soley had a point, she wasn't going to force the issue if Mr. Lewandowski wanted to continue to hide in his apartment, but her gut told her he would go with her to see Jerome. 

"I guess I should shave then." He says wryly, touching his face. Lamia smiles in relief.

\---

Soley was terrible at keeping secrets. She wasn't built for secrecy. She likes being honest and upfront even if it got her in trouble. There is no way she can lie to her dad convincingly so she doesn't. 

"Lamia has been working on a project." Keeping it vague was the best she could do. Soley wasn't even sure how exactly Lamia was planning to get them in a room together. Even if Robert lived in Berlin, it was completely out of the way to Lamia's. She had only gotten the cryptic directions of getting their dad to her apartment and she would take care of the rest.

"Oh? What about?" Jerome is concentrated on driving so Soley takes the time to hide her face.

"History, I think." She twists her hands in her lap and tries not crack a grin at her apt response. It was a bit like a history lesson for them. Soley hadn't read the letters when offered the chance because she didn't need it to know. She was arguably closer to Jerome because of his coaching at the academy and her being with the women's team and she had noticed the faces he made when Robert Lewandowski was mentioned.

Even if Robert had had a rocky start with the team, by the end he was one of theirs. He was the best number nine Pep Guardiola had produced in the Bayern machine. He was one of the best strikers the world had seen and all of his talent had only been sharpened under Guardiola's eye. Uncle Mario was talked about more, of course he was, but Soley knew when the whisper of Lewandowski reached her father's ears. 

He carried himself differently, like his age had caught up to him, like the years of pushing his body into the ground had suddenly dawned on his legs and he couldn't find a seat comfortable enough to sit down in so he just stood as proud as he could for as long as it took. 

His eyes would stare off in the distance, not unlike when he would watch the kids on the field, but Soley had known the difference for a long time now. She didn't need the letters to tell her Jerome Boateng and Robert Lewandowski had unfinished business. 

"Hey, we're here." Her dad shook her awake and Soley was suddenly terrified of the plan backfiring. Who knew how he would react to the letters or to Lamia going to visit the polish striker? It wasn't any of their business. Maybe fate had other plans for them, maybe they were meddling with something they shouldn't. 

"Sorry, I didn't even realize I dozed off." She rubbed a hand across her face, trying to keep all her doubt down. 

"I know how it is, getting sleep wherever you can. You know you can tell me if you're having a problem, Soley." Her foot started tapping out a beat. There was no way she was going to mess this up at the door. 

"Yeah, I know. Lamia's probably waiting." They took the stairs out of habit and Lamia almost yanked the door open wide when Soley knocked. They looked at each other for a moment, reassuring the other that everything would be okay before looking at their dad. 

"I've been working out something." Jerome took in the papers scattered on her desk and the dishes still in the sink and figured it had to be important with both of the girls mentioning it. 

"So I've heard. Want to tell me about it?" Soley shifted her weight on her other leg and Lamia smiled nervously.

"Actually, I've been getting some help with it from somebody else, someone you might know." Jerome raised an eyebrow because this wasn't the usual way his girls behaved when hanging about his former teammates or old friends. They weren't talking about Philipp, David or Mesut. 

"Who?" He hears a door open and sees Robert emerge from the hallway leading to Lamia's room. 

"Me." His hands are shoved in his pockets and he hasn't gone beyond the tile of the kitchen to meet the carpet where Jerome was standing. He smiles like he hasn't had a reason to in such a long time that his face isn't sure how to keep it up. He looks taller, maybe gaunter with a button down that looks too loose for his frame. Even with the changes between them, Jerome feels like he is twenty six again and trying not to lose his breath meeting his eyes.

"Hello, Jerome."


	4. lay me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a chance he couldn't let get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as I've mentioned, this wouldn't have been possible without vulcanistics' freedom of a thousand doves and also whimsicule's down dust and pine cone tracks. if you haven't read those please do! they're absolutely amazing.

Jerome takes some comfort in the surprise on Soley's face at seeing Robert in the apartment and the hint of guilt in Lamia's before returning the greeting as neutrally as he can. 

"Robert," he nods and doesn't know how or why his girls had brought them together, but he is surprised at his steadiness. "It's been a long time." It seems like an understatement. Jerome suddenly feels the years without him stretch and fit in the paces between them. It is a bit dizzying to realize this was really happening. He realizes Lamia's project was him, was _them_.

"Lamia," he starts, and Robert interrupts him like they weren't missing a decade in each other's lives. 

"I think, I have some explaining to do and your daughter, your _daughters_ have been a great deal of help. There's a lot to say and not enough time for it, so if Miss Boateng could let us occupy her living room, I think I could start telling you why we're here." 

Lamia is opening her mouth and closing it back again like a fish on land and Soley pinches her arm hard to snap her out of it. The football player is decisively grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door with Lamia protesting loudly. 

"I don't want to leave!" Soley gives an apologetic look towards the men. 

"I think we've seen enough. If you need us, we'll be at Michelle's downstairs." She shoves her sister and closes the door behind them. Robert is making himself at home on the couch and Jerome isn't sure when his daughters decided his relationships or lack thereof were of enough priority to stage such an intervention. 

"Are they always like that, together I mean? Seems like a handful." Jerome takes the chair at the desk that was as far away from the couch as seating went. 

"You were there when they were five, they're just taller and talk more, and apparently scheme against me to find you." He trails off with exasperation. His hands are balled up in his lap to keep them from shaking. Robert is looking intently at him and hasn't stopped to blink since he sat down. Jerome wants to tell him to take a picture but it would be juvenile and wouldn't get them any further than they were. 

"That was my fault. Inadvertently, or well, you could say it has always been my fault for not talking to you about this." Robert's smile slips off his face into something muted, something dangerously like regret and Jerome forces himself to stay still in his chair. 

"About what? Something that almost happened more than a decade ago? I think we're a little old to dawdle on something like that." His voice is steady and calm and Jerome pats himself mentally on the back because he is ridiculously close to getting up and leaving, taking cowardice over his crumbling strength. 

"Right, well why don't you call it what it was, Jerome. We fell in love. Is that easier now that it's out in the open?" Robert's tone is all wrong and some part of Jerome's mind is completely preoccupied by that. He sounds defeated and not at all like the Robert he knew. The years between them came crawling back; Jerome cataloged all the changes in the man he could see but he feared the changes he couldn't see. 

Robert had always been determined. He just never applied it to himself. The complete opposite of Jerome with his perfectionism. 

"No, it has never been easy. I don't think it will ever be easy." Robert laughs and Jerome frowns. 

"I never thought we would get here. Your daughter found the pieces of our past and put them together. She reminds me of you, you know." Jerome shakes his head. 

"Everyone says that, but I see more of their mother in them. I would hope they have more of her than of me." Robert gets up and Jerome's hair stands on edge. He carefully extracts a binder of Lamia's from the bookcase and hands it to him. His limbs feels like rubber but he braves the sensation to open it. 

"She read my letters. She went to Anna and came to me and I couldn't look at her without seeing you in her shadow." Jerome flips through the binder that ended with printed out emails dated years ago up until today. Robert is still standing in front of him and Jerome isn't used to looking up to him but it is the only thing he can do.

"What is this, Robert." Everything had started with Dear Jerome, dear jerome, dear jerome as he paged through. Robert's eyes are the same shade of mercurial blue and stared at him with so much hope, Jerome felt old despair in his heart. He was lying to himself, thinking he could ever leave. He didn't even think he could stand if he tried. He gripped the binder tight. 

"I love you. I still do." 

\---

"Get up," Jerome's face is caught between disgruntlement and pleading. Robert doesn't move from his spot on the floor. 

"If you're not going to join me on the couch, I will sit on the floor." Jerome's hands were holding onto the binder full of his letters like they could shield him from the words he was saying. Robert found that a bit funny, ironic maybe that he would hold onto them as if they were a lifeline.

"We don't have to do this. My daughter didn't have to--" Robert can't let him give him an out. 

"Your daughter is very brave, much braver than I was at her age. And I owe her a debt for bringing me here, because we do, we do need this. If it still means something to you, I'd like to talk and for you to listen. I never got a chance to say the words before, so forgive me if it's a little late now." Robert gives a little shrug, knowing there is a chance Jerome has moved on. 

Jerome looks at him on the floor and shakes his head in disbelief. 

"Robert, you just told me you loved me and I didn't run away, why would I now?" Robert can feel his face crumple into a dusty smile. He always did point out the most logical faults in his reasoning.

"You didn't say anything back." He is careful and Jerome looks down to the binder again. Robert feels his ribs hurt, feels something in his chest crack open like an egg and spill some slippery substance that felt a lot like regret into his lungs. The heavy weight of 'too late' starts fusing with his bones and Jerome's eyes throw him from the thought. 

"I think you should know by now, I've never been able to open my mouth at the right time. My daughters probably have all the bravery I had left in me." Robert wants to touch him, wants to tell him is being brave right now for giving this a chance. 

"They had to learn it from somewhere, Jerome. I started writing the letters after we won the Champions League. The emails are from when I went to Arsenal."

\---

He emailed Mario to keep up with the team, it was a pretense Mario quickly caught onto and didn't tolerate. 

"If you want to know how Jerome is, ask Jerome. I'm not going to get in between you two and whatever you want to call it. It's been enough time for him to not just delete the message. You have a phone. Why the hell are you emailing me?" So he takes the advice for once and writes an email. 

_Dear Jerome,_

_How are you?_

No, he couldn't send that. He probably shouldn't even start with a 'dear'. That would be too much, too trite. 

_Jerome,_

_Mario told me you got a yellow against Eintracht. I saw the highlights on the bus back to London. It was the wrong call._

He glares at the white background and cursor for inadequately filling up with words. There is more to them than football. He spins in his chair a few times juggling words he could write. The screen goes black and he is hesitant to start again. He doesn't send an email, but it is automatically saved in his drafts the next time he opens his inbox.

Robert doesn't think as much with the next one.

_Dear Jerome,_

_you'll probably never see this and that is alright. I scored a goal against Joe Hart and Mesut says the fans will have to be clever for a fitting chant with Lewandowski in it. It would be easier to use Lewy don't you think? I wish....._

_no matter, I'm sure they will come up with something._

And it goes on like that until it becomes a habit, him tapping away on his phone or some other device most nights after finding some quiet. No one seems to find anything strange with it when they are rooming away for a game and Theo jokes that all Germans are perpetually on their phones but there is nothing besides that. 

Robert corrects him, he is Polish and came from the German league. His head is full of new sounds and another language to learn, and he constantly complains to Anna about the extra work it is to think in English for interviews. There is an embarrassing desire in him for someone to ask about the emails, because he'd rather share the burden than keep it for himself.

Per sometimes gives him odd sympathetic looks that reminds him a little of Philipp when Bastian couldn't control his anger on the pitch and picked fights until he could storm off to cool off. Then, it dawns on him that he is more obvious or Per is more perceptive than he thought.

_Dear Jerome,_

_a captain's burden is to see everything your team is, but it has taken me this long to realize it. Slowomir is still a bit bitter that I moved to the premier league. I am sure he will be over it by the time the international break comes. If you become captain of Germany, we will be on equal standing for the next Euro. I think Per and Philipp had the right idea, retire early._

It is a smoother start than Bayern. He is important for the hungry Gunners and Robert throws himself into the game. If a trophy doesn't surface by the end of the season, he hasn't done a good enough job for Per and the others.

"Robert, you have to slow down." Anna is brushing his hair back with a hand. He is sick and irritated with his body for catching a bug at the wrong time. 

"If I slow down, I lose the ball, I get injured, I miss a chance." Anna shakes her head. They have been separated for months with a careful charade to fool the media. England gives them enough distance to cite work as a problem, but Anna stuck around gladly. It was hard to forget a routine of the past seven years. 

"I talked to Jerome." Robert sucks in a breath, trying his hardest to not give into the sensation of getting punched in the gut. 

"Why would you do that?" There is no bite to the words, just exhaustion and Robert thinks maybe Anna is right, the Premier League was going to drain him dry if he kept on like this. There just wasn't any other way he could think of, to get through everything. 

"Because we were friends, because I wanted to know how Sherin and the girls were doing, various reasons, Robert. They moved to a new place. I have the address, if you want it." Her hand stops carding through his hair and he feels the weight of his decisions press down on him like stones. 

"No," he croaks out. "No, I don't need it." Anna's smile is sad when he finally turns his back to her.

\---

Arsenal wins the league by a miracle. A close race is always a given during the second half of the season but the best predictions came as a place in the Champions League next year as a top four team, to win was unexpected. Per makes noises about retiring and taking up skiing with Philipp and Basti. Everyone knows his choice of a successor will be Alex, even under the scrutiny of the media. 

Lukas is in the stands with Louis and takes part in the celebration afterwards, hugging all of them with the brightest smile Robert has seen from the man apart from when he's with Bastian. Once a gunner, always a gunner, he sees Per and Wojciech lift him up. Mesut raises an eyebrow at him and takes his phone out to take a picture.

"You don't seem too happy, Robert." He smiles at Mesut genuinely, slapping his hand into his in half a handshake, half a high-five before getting roped into a selfie with a couple of the others. 

"I'm getting old. Adrenaline isn't enough to keep me from collapsing into my bed after this." Of course, they don't do anything besides go out and take increasingly hilarious picture with the new trophy. Lukas ends up taking a breather next to him. Robert is almost surprised when the older man launches into slightly accented Polish. 

"You didn't go to the wedding." Robert is definitely surprised then. He hadn't wanted to run into Jerome whom he knew would be at the event. All of them were close with their children in common and Robert felt like he was only invited out of courtesy. It was better to not ruin a joyous occasion with his own baggage. 

"Anna couldn't make it, figured I shouldn't go without her." He makes excuses awkwardly but Lukas doesn't call him out on it. 

Robert knocks back his drink and is about to mention getting another to cut out of the conversation when the other man slaps him on the back to get his attention.

"You shouldn't worry so much. Everything works out eventually, time sorts these things out, like the Cup for example." He leaves with another smile and Robert is perplexed by the words. It took Schweinsteiger and Podolski ten years along with some spare to get to this stage. Surely, Lukas couldn't have left it to time to solve their problems and hang ups. Robert couldn't compare to their situation. 

He tries to picture it for a moment years down the line, but can't make any likely scenario stick. Wojciech finds him at the bar and downs his beer like it were water.

"What's got you all pensive?" A silly grin on his face, his eyes not exactly focused on Robert. 

"Lukas said something," he shrugs. He doesn't order anything else to compensate for Wojciech's thievery. The drunker man giggled.

"Of course, Poldi likes to share his wisdom when he's can take advantage of our addled state. So what was it this time? Invest in the small things to reap the great things? Oh no, no I know that face. It's about your long lost adventure at Bayern and he who must not be named." Robert rolls his eyes.

"We're not in Harry Potter." Wojciech hums before snapping his fingers unsuccessfully.

"I'm Ron and Anna's Hermione. Wait, no, except I'm not going to marry her that would be weird. So if you're Harry. I guess that would make him Cedric or something yeah? equally chosen for valor or whatever, stupid sacrificing idiots maybe? I would say Sirius and Remus but let's face it, if anyone is Sirius, it's me. You can be Remus since you try to foil all my plans and end up going along with them anyway but as bros. You're gorgeous but not my type, sorry to dash your dreams." He winks and says it all in almost one breath.

"I thought...they were?" Robert is still trying to process Wojciech's ramblings. He snorts like Robert was the one pulling Harry Potter analogies out of thin air on the night they conquered and won the Premier League. 

"I will eat turf off your boots before you tell me Sirius wasn't a little gay, man, you _are_ blind." Robert shook his head and tried to steer the conversation back to normal territory.

"Lukas told me if I give it enough time, it will resolve itself." Woj makes a disapproving face complete with pressed lips and wrinkled forehead. 

"You know what I think, but at least we're not kids anymore and no one's in jail."

\---

Retiring is easy, surprisingly easy. He is not restless and he does not go on a journey around the world like Marco. Robert does find himself staying with Mario for a change of scenery. He's not entirely sure why but chalks it up to Mario having similar experiences and still keeping in touch after all these years. 

Mario is good company. He doesn't intrude or tell him anything he doesn't want to hear until the conversation he didn't want to have took place.

"Unlike you, I keep in touch with my friends, give them a call once and a while, including Jerome."

"Oh yeah, how's Marco doing then?" He stiffens a little before continuing with his back turned to Robert. The kitchen was in disarray from cooking but it didn't need Mario's complete attention.

"I lost his number some time ago,"

It's funny how the same excuses don't work for him. His phone is innocently lying on the table but Robert doesn't grab it in an attempt to hide the contents, the numerous unsent emails. Kindred spirits knew how to recognize the same lies. He texts Marco anyway and tells him his next stop should be the Mediterranean for the food alone. Marco sends back the equivalent of a 'fuck off and don't tell me what to do'. He is unspoken ghost in the house, because Robert knows Mario's tastes and his home has tiny pockets that read of someone else, of an unfinished result. 

They shelve the conversation for another time. Robert waits for Marco to come to his senses so Mario has an excuse to kick him out. 

"Why did you even try with Jerome. if you knew it wouldn't work out?" The warmth of the wine doesn't couch the question but he lets it slide. Marco had sent a mass text with a kangaroo and Mario had a preoccupied furrow all day. It seemed losing numbers wasn't a two way street. Robert stared at the ceiling from his place on the couch. The television was on, the bubbling Italian predominantly white noise to him. No one had ever asked him why.

"Sometimes the risks aren't enough to outweigh everything else. Your imagination can only do so much but that's also giving in, fueling that desire for things that won't happen. It's like football. No one tells you to slow down until it's already too late and then, what can you do besides want more?" Mario stays quiet until Robert isn't sure if he fell asleep. He keeps his head back, eyes trained on the white paint. Even if he said it to thin air, it was something to say it out loud. 

"Why don't you go back to Germany?" It is a quiet query, the softest tone he had ever heard from the younger man. Robert snorts in amusement, because Germany is Jerome's, the capital, the football, everything. Philipp and Bastian may have been captains but to Robert, he couldn't associate the country with anyone else. 

"Why don't you call Marco home?" There is something brittle in his tone but he tries to ignore it in favor for the sharp inhale of the other man. If anyone could get Marco to settle in one place without the itch to leave once more, it is Mario. Simple enough to understand for anyone outside of the group and maybe Marco didn't put it in that frame but everyone knew there was something he was waiting for, some place to feel right, somewhere to call home. 

He blinks at Mario, doesn't look around the room. Robert almost expects him to leave, to shuffle into his office or bedroom. There is jealousy worming his way into his thoughts. Robert will never get that call. He has nothing to go back to, and there is guilt also, because Anna is there and seven years is not to be taken for granted. Mario gets up and pours two glasses of whiskey.

"I tried to go back, to Dortmund, I mean. After my contract was up." He knocks back enough of the amber liquid to impress Robert. The decanter is three-fourths full and looks expensive. He takes a sip of his own glass and thinks Italy might have taught Mario more than Italian. 

"Sometimes, I think Pep knew exactly what he was doing, taking us on." He goes on. Robert smiles crookedly.

"Of course he did. He wanted the best of the best to sow his legacy in Bundesliga. The man is a mastermind. Not even Thomas could wheedle his way into his good graces all of the time." He knew there was a rocky end to that particular mentorship and Robert was spared the details overseas but once in a while the media found a kernel of truth in their speculation. 

Mario drained the rest of his glass with a slight cough.

"It was unbelievably awkward at the wedding, with Marco I mean. The pictures..." He makes some sort of sign with his hand but ends up pouring himself more wine. So they trade phrases and cut off thoughts between drinking and Robert thinks he has a rare friend in Mario, even if it took him this long to understand why.

\---

"So why did you come back?" Jerome cuts through his remembrance. Robert was starting to lose feeling in his right foot, sitting on the floor.

"Marco got his head out of his ass. I wasn't invited to be part of the welcome committee. Besides I didn't belong in Mario's things. It was always supposed to be temporary and they definitely needed the space to sort things out with one another." He is wry because isn't that exactly what they were doing right now in a college girl's apartment in Berlin. 

He wants to avoid showing the ugly want in his chest but his eyes refuse to stray from the other man. Robert watches as Jerome turns to a random page in the binder. His heart is caught in his throat, seeing his hands faintly trace over words as if to keep his line of vision steady. 

"I need some time, to read this, to figure things out." It is matter of fact, a completely Jerome response. Time is what they have to spare so Robert just tries on that dusty smile once more. He gets up. 

"I understand. I can wait." Jerome stands as well. There is an infinitesimal moment where Robert isn't sure what dance they are caught in between getting to the door from where they were. It feels familiar, like they were twenty-six again with Bayern Munchen scrawled on their backs and charged with the tension of the champions league final when he was still in yellow.

Jerome leans against the doorframe. Robert puts his hands in his pockets, stepping through, giving Jerome the chance to close the door on him. It is a bit nightmarish to think it could be the last time they see each other face to face. Robert shuffles a bit, suddenly aware of how awkward his body feels in the space it is taking up. 

"I won't make you wait forever. Trust me. I'll call you?" He trails off in a question and Robert's face is pulled into another smile. 

"Lamia has my number." Jerome snorts, shaking his head and the air is easy again. 

"Of course she does."

\---

"Before you say anything, I dragged Soley into this and I'm inviting Mr. Lewandowski to the wedding." Lamia blurts out rapidly as they come into the apartment. Soley immediately jumps in with a 'no way, I did this because it was a good idea' which Lamia looks incredulous at. Jerome holds up his hands. 

"You're still planning on a long engagement?" Lamia nods, backpedaling and Soley rolls her eyes. 

"I won't argue with your plans then. You can invite Gerard Pique if you want. It's your wedding." Both girls wrinkle their nose at the thought of Barcelona's manager.

"Gross, dad, why the hell would Lamia do that?" Soley taps her foot a little for emphasis, impatient for details on what happened while they were gone. Lamia was not the only one to be plagued by curiousity. Jerome gives her a look for the swearing. He knows it's common practice on the field but Soley had to be a role model and he didn't want any kids picking up bad habits because of his daughter's proclivity to curse like a sailor.

"So what happened?" Lamia asks a little nervously. Jerome laughs.

"You owe me a story, daughter, then I'll tell you what happened." Soley groans and starts for the kitchen. 

"Well, I'm making hot chocolate then if we're gonna sit down and watch Lamia get all dewy-eyed." Lamia gives a long suffering sigh but figures Soley will do the dishes to pay her back. She gets the binder and sits on the couch. This time, Jerome follows easily. 

"Can I read you my favorite ones first? Soley never wanted to see them and they're for you...I only showed some to Luan because I needed a translator." She looked to Jerome with hopeful eyes. 

Jerome nodded slowly, "Sure, sure you can." So Lamia read a few, scattered in the binder, exclaiming over particular phrases, breaking out of her calm exterior. Soley feigned inattentiveness with the mug in her hands, but her eyes would widen slightly when Lamia took a breath, waiting for the next part. Jerome mostly kept quiet, pensive, almost hearing the words in Robert's voice instead of Lamia's. When Lamia was done telling her part of the story, Jerome didn't have the energy to deal with the events, much less get back home. 

"I'm going to stay here, to think about all this and read the rest of this. And girls," he broke off not sure what to say, "thank you." They rushed at him for a hug that was tight and welcome. Lamia brought out an extra blanket for the couch and the sisters trudged into her room to get ready for bed, knowing their father needed the space.

"Do you think it'll work out?" Lamia asked as she put on a cap for her hair. Soley, she knew would be honest, and had more of a gut instinct for the unknown. 

Soley huffs a little amused by the doubt. 

"You made it happen, of course it will, dummy. Besides, dad would have shut us down if there wasn't _something_ there. It's in their hands now. We did our part." She turns to face the wall and Lamia smiles at her back.

\---

_Dear Jerome,_

_Today, today I have to confess, will probably be the hardest day of my life barring the day my father died. Today, if everything goes well, will be the day we see each other again. It is daunting to think that we have spent more than a decade without being face to face and frankly, I don't know where to start. I don't know what to say or write. I stopped writing when I got to Berlin because the temptation of sending it to you was too hard to turn down._

_Rereading my words, I can see so much more between the lines and I hope you see it too. These letters have all the good and bad of my life without you. I don't know whether you'll give me another chance to make things right, but I do hope for it. I've hoped for another chance for so many nights, it is a little like a prayer._

_It is selfish, I think, to want you so much._

_And if it doesn't work, well at least I got to see you again (or maybe I was brave enough to believe you would come for a rare moment.) Lamia is a wonderful girl and I am happy for her and I am happy for you. I don't have anything else to say besides I love you, and that's really all that matters, all I never said, all this amounts to._

_Sometimes, I'm afraid that I am in love with some part of you from when we were young, but then I get this longing to see the wrinkles that have developed, your smile, your eyes when the day is gone and you've been working with some kid who doesn't take no for an answer. I want to hear your voice telling stories about your day and the years I missed._

_It is then that the worry fades, because I am still selfish and would take any part of you that you're willing to give._

_I can tell you, if you do show up, if this does work, I will try not to touch you because that is some sort of ache that can't be fixed by one day or one hour. I can't touch you unless, well if you're willing to give us a try._

_That is not an ultimatum. I just tend to jump in with my heart in my hands and it's been too long to keep any secrets from you. This is my most honest self, one probably only found on paper directed to you._

_I started these letters as a form of closure and now, I am back to the beginning it seems. And I hope you're willing to meet me there, at some new chapter of our lives. If you do..._

Robert ends the letter there. Jerome had been sucked into the binder and hadn't even registered the weak light of the rising sun outside. He fills in the blank for himself. If I do, if I do, where would we begin. He takes off his glasses. They had so many endings, but Jerome hadn't gone to the end, Robert had asked him for a start.

They could move forward together. 

He wakes up Lamia. 

"Where does he live?" Lamia's sleepiness gives way to a squeal that wakes her sister up.

"Yes! Oh my god, Soley, get up, get up, Dad is going to see Mr. Lewandowski." She hops out of bed to write down the address. Jerome hugs Lamia for luck and comfort and heads out to the next step with the slip of paper in his hand.

This was a chance he couldn't let get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god I really hope this isn't a terrible ending. Today, I found something I thought I had lost and that really meant the world to me. I'm so sentimental I could write an epilogue~wedding fic if you would want it. 
> 
> I'll probably come back to this and fiddle with the formatting to make it a smoother read. please, please give me feedback, seriously, I wrestled with the ending of this for months. Is the letter too ooc? too much? is this whole thing cheesy. 
> 
> I'm also indebted to all the anons who wanted to see this get to the finish line and if you have a title suggestion (im not fond of this one) please leave it in a comment.


End file.
